Origins of a Forlorn Virtuoso
by TheCrystalRing
Summary: Weiss Guertena was a simple man, yet he had a secret. In his long and tortuous life he only had one goal; to create the perfect world. Based upon the character from 'Ib' with slight crossovers with other RPG Maker horror games. Contains, among other things: cursing, torture, death (murder & suicide), romance, and references.


**AN: Umm...well, hello. This is a sort of origin story thing for Guertena from Ib, because ****_seriously_****, there is something wrong with that man's head. So I'm writing this, and it is sort of a crossover between other indie RPG Maker horror games like Mad Father and The Witch's House but the main story will be about the Ib universe. So enjoy...**

* * *

Weiss Guertena was a simple man; he woke up in the morning and fell asleep at night, like most people did. Yet...he also had a secret, which was not exactly out of place in this world - everyone has a secret of some sort - but it was still a secret no less. It had all started long ago, when the world had no room for anything but the simple...when the great tragedy that had been slowly killing him inside began.

"Weiss! Weiss, where are you, my boy?"

Weiss didn't answer. Why would he? He hated Father, and wished he would go away. Die, even. Why would he love someone who, every day, would strip an innocent person of their life just to fulfill their own selfish desires? No, he would much prefer to stay here, with his artwork, where no one would ever f-

"I fooound yooou~!"

Weiss jumped, frantically blocking his creation so Father couldn't see it, "Father…! What are you doing?!"

"Playing hide and seek, of course," Father laughed in his usual maniacal way, "Remember?"

Weiss racked his brain for an answer before replying, "...You mean that game we started that one time when you had to leave because you needed to go to 'work'?"

"Of course! What else would I be talking about?"

"...That was five years ago, Father."

"Oh, really?" Father scratched his head, "I guess you're right. But the point is that I still found you! I win!"

Weiss blinked, dumbfounded. Why was Father acting _this_ cheery, especially towards him, of all people, "Uh...Yes, I suppose you have, Father. Would you like a prize for your great achievement? Maybe something that says, I don't know, '#1 Dad', 'You're a Winner'," Weiss smiled crookedly, "...Or maybe even 'Congratulations for Murdering Innocent People to Turn into Dolls'?"

Father's eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he clenched his fist. _There_ was the Father Weiss knew, "Silence, Weiss. I don't need you carelessly babbling about my hobby to those who don't need to know. Especially Aya."

Aya. The bane of Weiss' existence. Of course, she wouldn't know that - she was only just barely four and never talked to him - but that didn't stop him from disliking her. She had stolen Mother away; Weiss now only saw Mother at dinner-time, but she was much too busy taking care of his sister to even speak to him, much less have an actual conversation with him.

"Yeah, yeah whatever…"

"Weiss," Father's glasses reflected the sunlight streaming through the window, so that his hazel-brown eyes were obscured from view, "I know you don't like me. Honestly, the feeling is mutual. But I will not allow you to do whatever you please, no matter what your mother wishes."

Weiss rolled his eyes and turned his back to him, "I know, Father...I seem to be the only one who knows anything around here…"

Father opened his mouth as if he was going to reply, but a muffled scream emanated from the floorboards beneath them, cutting him off. He hesitated, and with one last look at his son, turned around and walked down the hallway from whence he came.

"Good riddance," Weiss said under his breath as he uncovered his creation.

It was a sculpture, the first one Weiss had ever attempted to do. It was a rose, a red one to be precise. He had started gathering materials for it almost two years ago, after he had painted one for Mother's birthday, as they were her favorite flower. After some testing and research, Weiss decided to make it out of glass, which was risky of course, but he thought it would turn out the best out of all of his options due to the capability of adding color. So far, he had the blossom done, which he thought came out pretty well for a first attempt. Once Weiss figured out how to make the stem, he could give it to Mot-

"Oooh, that's really pretty!"

"Wah!" Weiss jumped again, swinging his head from side to side. Apparently, he needed a new hiding spot, "Who's there? Show yourself!"

"Hehe! I'm behind you, silly!" The voice sang. It sounded like a young girl.

Weiss turned around and gasped.

It was indeed a girl, around Weiss' age. The first thing he noticed about her were her eyes; they were so deep, so full of life, and oh so strangely _blue_, bluer than any ocean or any sapphire he had ever seen. Her hair was an unnatural color as well, somewhere between pure yellow and gold that cascaded halfway down her back. She was dressed in a dark, forest green dress which Weiss noticed was ragged at the bottom...Oh no. Was she…?

"...Though I like red, I think it would be REALLY pretty if it was blue! I really, REALLY like blue!" The girl noticed Weiss was staring at her, "Hey, mister? Are you okay? Do you need help? Or do you think I'm so cute that you're speechless? Heehee!"

Weiss blinked, then shook his head, "No, I just...where did you come from?"

"That's a strange question, don'tcha think?" The girl giggled, " There's only one place I could have come from silly!" She pointed behind her, towards a door Weiss could swear wasn't there before, "I came from the basement, through that passage that I found while Alfie was talking about some boring stuff!"

"...Alfie? Wait, do you mean Father?"

"Uh-huh, the man with the glasses! He's _so_ nice; I wish he was my father! Hey, hey, do you and Alfie play games and have fun and throw parties and paint pic-"

"H-Hey! Slow down!" Weiss cut the girl off, "First things first; I'm Weiss. What is your name?"

"I'm Marilyn! But that's kinda long, so you can call me Mary!"

"Okay then, Mary. How did you get up here without 'Alfie' noticing?"

"Umm…" Mary tilted her head, "I was playing hide and seek with Oliver and Cecilia whe-"

"Who are they?"

Mary stamped her foot, "Stop interrupting! Ollie's my little brother and Celia is my little sister! I found that passage while I was hiding behind a box. I heard your voice echoing through the floor above me, so I investigated, and I found you! A boy around my age! How old are you, Weiss?"

"Nine. And you?"

"I'm eight!" She rocked back and forth on her feet, "So…do you want to play with us, Weiss? It's kinda lonely down there, and the only other people there are twins who won't talk to us."

Weiss sighed and slowly stood, brushing the pieces of glass to the side of the hall, "Sure, Mother's birthday is a few months away, anyways. I suppose the rose can stand to wa-Hey!"

The blonde had snatched Weiss' hand while he was talking and was tugging him towards the attic, "C'mon! I'll introduce you to Ollie and Celia!"

He tried to dig his heels in, but soon gave up and let Mary drag him through the door and towards Father's domain.

* * *

_Shink, Shink, Shink, Shink…_The knife scraping against the whetstone was the only sound in the dank slaughter room besides the incoherent moaning of the young woman strapped down on the center table.

Those were the only sounds that truly made Alfred Drevis happy, really. The sounds of a sharp edge and utter despair. It was _exhilarating_, just knowing how that one person, only _one_, could strike so much fear into someone. How only one person could take all that was right or wrong, crumple it up, and throw it away. He could be the puppeteer of multiple lives, the checkmate of life's game, the coup de grâce against it all; it was something most had tried to make him believe only God and Fate could control. No, the Doctor knew better now; the world was dirty and impure, and he was simply here to protect those who were too innocent and weak to fight back.

"You know, Rosabella, you are a very beautiful young girl…" The Doctor raised the blade and inspected it, before nodding, "It's a shame that I had to cut your tongue out, really; you almost had a voice as gorgeous as Monika's...Not that it matters that much; no one is going to look inside the mouth of a doll, anyways. I just wished you wouldn't cause so much of a ruckus."

Rosabella tried to gurgle something in response, but only succeeded in dribbling blood onto her white surgical gown. He snickered as he set the knife down and wiped her face clean with his sleeve, "Heh, you're very messy Italian; my four year old is cleaner than you. That reminds me, why did you come to this country anyways? You weren't any better off here than there...Oh, wait, I suppose you can't answer me, now, can you?"

The girl closed her green eyes and her face contorted as she spat a glob of saliva and blood into the Doctor's face. He pulled back, trying to clean the mess off of his face, before giving up as he only smeared it more. He smirked, "Fiesty, are we? Well, then, I guess it's about time we begin~!"

He slid a covered cart towards the table and pulled the sheet covering it off. A variety of instruments were arranged on its surface, including a large hypodermic needle filled with a pale mixture. The Doctor took the syringe in one hand, and the knife in the other before returning to Rosabella's side.

He raised the knife and pointed to her hair, "I've never seen someone with pink hair before; it looks rather ravishing on you, actually. It sets off your eyes quite nicely. Yes, quite lovely..."

The Doctor moved the knife slowly down, not touching her skin, but being close enough to make the girl flinch, "But how to make you even lovelier…?" The blade traced around her mouth, which was still dripping blood, before trailing downwards to her neck, "Hm...don't you think you would look prettier...dead?" He thrusted the needle into her arm and pushed down on the plunger, emptying its contents into her bloodstream.

Rosabella's body jerked as she felt a numbness spread along her arm. The Doctor merely chuckled, before pressing the blade against her throat and cutting her mumbling off, "Wonderful, isn't it? What I just injected into you was a concoction I had perfected only last week! You see, it hardens flesh into something similar to porcelain. Isn't that fantastic? Think about it! I have found a way to preserve a body just like how they were when alive, except for all eternity, without repercussions! No decomposing, no aging...the possibilities are simply _endless!_"

The girl choked against the knife due to lack of air, snapping the Doctor out of his stupor. He embarrassedly laughed, "Oh, sorry. I get distracted just thinking about it! Anyways, my dear, I suppose I should wrap this up. I know you'll look magnificent as a doll; I guarantee it! In fact, you would make the perfect gift for Aya's next birthday! Oh yes, I'll...No, I'm getting off-track again."

The Doctor pressed the blade harder against Rosabella's neck, causing a few beads of crimson to pool together and stain the metal, "Don't worry, it shouldn't hurt too terribly much. Death, I have been told, is a great gift from God himself. You should be grateful that I'm giving it to you so soon. Farewell~!"

* * *

As Mary led him through the dim hallway, Weiss stopped, his head cocked to side, listening. He thought he had heard another scream…

"Hey, Weiss, what are you doin'? C'mon, the ladder to the basement's right there!"

Weiss shook his head, silencing his thoughts; he could figure out what that was later, "Sorry, you're right. Let's go."

As soon as the top of Weiss' head disappeared down the edge of the passage did a small figure poke out from inside a large pot and cough. The figure, a boy, stood up and glanced back at the ladder leading down to the basement before turning to the door Weiss and Mary had entered through.

"I wonder who Mary was talkin' to…?" The boy asked to no one in particular. He blew his golden bangs out of his equally golden eyes and sneezed, "She found somebody to play with, didn't she! Someone her age! That's not fair! The only person my age is Celia, and she's boooring!"

The blond youth climbed out of the pot and crossed to the door, just managing to open it while standing on the tip of his toes, "Well, I'll show 'er! There's gotta be somebody else out there to play with me!"

And with that, the boy pushed the door open fully and walked into the pristine hallway beyond, slamming the door close behind him. He ignored the loud echoing it sent throughout the house; he didn't care who heard him. There were friends he needed to find, and there wasn't anybody who was going to stop him on his quest for friendship.


End file.
